


Ducktales Oneshots

by Cartoonygirl



Series: Ducktales Oneshots [1]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Dewey is irresponsible, Gen, HONORARY NIECE WEBBY, I know nothing about Della but I'll be damned if I don't write about her, I think that Webby's parents are...... gone, its mostly fluff, ok a bit of drama but mostly fluff, ok so maybe a lot of drama in the first one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-01-15 02:53:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 6,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12312414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cartoonygirl/pseuds/Cartoonygirl
Summary: A collection of Ducktales oneshots based on the 2017 reboot.





	1. Ransom Money

Dewey was the first to wake up.

He didn't really get what was happening right away, considering how disoriented he was. For all he knew, he was waking up in his bed back at the manor or on the houseboat, with his brothers and his uncle.

It didn't take long to realize that this was not the manor or the houseboat, and he was not in his bed, but tied up on the floor of a small, dark room. His brothers were tied to him, so they were all back to back. 

This was  _not_ a normal occurrence.

 

"Guys! Wake up!" Dewey said, or at least tried to say, before realizing that there was duct tape keeping him from talking. He resorted to desperate wriggling and kicking his legs (which were also tied together) on the floor, and Huey and Louie soon woke up and came to the same realization as Dewey.

And though there were three perspectives looking at the situation, they all carried the same thought.

_We are in so much trouble._

\---

Donald knew something fishy was going on when he didn't wake to the sound of three pairs of webbed feet running down the hall. Or to loud screaming and laughing. Or to having his window smashed (it had happened twice already, and Donald wouldn't be surprised if it happened a third time).

Upon further investigation, he found that the halls were completely deserted. Even  _more_ suspicious. At this point, worry was creeping in. The boys had never been this quiet, ever, not as long as he'd known them. Which was their whole lives.

He knocked on the door to the triplet's room. No reply. He knocked again. Still nothing. He flung open the door. The window was broken. The triplets were gone.

"SCROOGE! BEAKLEY! THE BOYS ARE MISSING!" He ran down the hall in a panicked frenzy, stopping at Scrooge's door to bang on it until he woke up.

The door finally opened to a tired and angered Scrooge.

"Donald, it is eight o'clock in the morning. What could possibly be so-"

"THE BOYS!" Donald screamed. "THEY'RE GONE!"

"Gone? What do you mean, gone?" Scrooge began walking down the hall to the triplets's room with Donald following.

"I MEAN GONE AS IN KIDNAPPED!" Donald exclaimed, jumping as they walked.

"Now, now, let's not jump to conclusions, I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation-" Scrooge stopped short as they entered the room. "BEAKLEY!" He yelled, running out the door again. "WE NEED TO LEAVE NOW!"

\---

It had been maybe 20 minutes before the triplets found out who had taken them.

"Tell him I want $3 billion dollars! No, that's not a ridiculous demand! He'll pay for sure!" The triplets rolled their eyes in unison. It hadn't worked the last time, and it probably wouldn't work now. They recognized the voice, though. Glomgold.

It would probably be about an hour, maybe an hour and a half, before this all blew up in his face, the triplets decided.

\---

1 hour and 7 minutes exactly, as Huey counted. Then, the triplets heard an alarm start blaring, and that could really only mean one thing.

"GLOMGOLD, WHERE ARE THE BOYS?" Scrooge's voice rang loud and clear through the door. Loud, incoherent yelling from Donald was also heard, but the triplets ignored it as nobody could understand Donald when he was angry.

"I found a door!" The third voice belonged to Webby, who was probably the most violent of the group, and it made the triplets wonder why she wasn't fighting. It didn't matter, though, because a few seconds after Webby spoke, the door opened.

"Hey guys!" Webby said cheerfully, as though kidnappings were a fun and not at all stressful and terrifying activity. "Don't worry, Scrooge and Donald are taking care of Glomgold." She walked over and had the triplets untied and able to speak again in seconds flat.

Donald and Scrooge appeared at the door.

"BOYS!" Donald exclaimed, pulling the three into a tight hug. They acted annoyed, but honestly? They were glad to see some familiar faces again.

"We really should get some more magical defenses," Scrooge mused. "so that this can be avoided."

"Uh, I second the suggestion of more magical defenses, being kidnapped is really... scary," Louie spoke up.

"Maybe  _somebody_ just needs less enemies," Donald said, glaring at Scrooge.

"Hey, all's well that ends well, right?" Webby said, trying to break the tension.

"If your idea of ending well is emotion trauma, then yes," Huey said, still a bit on edge.

"You'll be fine, it happens all the time! You know, back when Grammy was a spy, I got kidnapped  _constantly_..." And soon Webby was off on a tangent, and everything felt normal again.


	2. #8

Of all of Gyro's failed inventions and ideas, this one had to be the failure frosting on the failure cake. 

"Lil' Bulb!" Gyro rushed down the halls of the Money Bank, not caring that he was shoving other workers out of his way in the process. He ignored their dirty looks as he followed his now-evil creation. "Lil' Bulb! Stop it!" 

Lil' Bulb #8 was now another failed attempt for Gyro. He really, really, _really_ wished he could take care of #8 before anything bad could happen.

Of course, as soon as Gyro thought this, something bad happened. 

Lil' Bulb left the Money Bank.

" _Bad Lil' Bulb!_ Bad!" Gyro screamed, exiting the building behind it. If he thought shoving through coworkers who were used to this kind of thing was bad, he really hadn't prepared for what it would be like on the streets.

First of all, the giant, evil robot was scaring the life out of Duckburg's citizens. Second of all, Gyro's pushing and shoving and running through the streets was honestly not helping to make anyone feel better.

And now the kids were there, of course, because apparently they had nothing better to do.

"Oh, not again!" Louie exclaimed upon seeing Lil' Bulb running through the town, destroying anything and everything in its path. 

"Again?!" Webby, Huey, and Dewey said at the same time.

"It's a long story. Gyro! I thought you made him good again!" Louie yelled as the scientist ran past them.

"That was-huff-The first one!-puff-This is the eighth!" Gyro came to a stop, exhausted. He had run so far, he couldn't even see the Money Bank from where he was. "I'm a failure!" He sobbed. The triplets (plus Webby) stood awkwardly, not knowing what to say. 'Sorry your invention turned evil... again?' Was this a good time for 'sorry for your loss?'

"Hey, I'm sure we can fix it," Huey said finally. "We just have to, uh, stop him first."

"I appreciate the enthusiasm, but it's not fixable," Gyro sniffed. "We have to  _destroy him_." 

"Uh, okay, we can do that?" Dewey looked at Webby for confirmation. She shook her head. "We, uh, can't do that?" She shook her head faster. "We  _definitely_ can't-" Very vigorous head shaking now. "Well, why don't you just say it, then?"

"We can stop him!" Webby said.

"We  _can_? I mean- we can! Yes!" Dewey corrected.

"Just leave me to wallow in the pain of my failures," Gyro sighed.

"You don't have, like, a switch to turn this thing off?" Louie asked. "Because I would've if-"

"I have a switch." Gyro facepalmed as he pulled the aforementioned switch out of his pocket. The kids watched, confused, as he pushed the button. The screaming across town suddenly stopped. 

"I guess I gotta go get that," Gyro said. "See you kids around."

Gyro was sure that attempt #9 would go better.


	3. Promise

"You knew something about mom?  _And you didn't tell us_ _?"_ The pain in Huey's voice is enough to make Dewey regret everything he'd done before this moment. He hurt his brothers. He hurt his brothers.  _He hurt his brothers_.

"I-I just... She did something, something  _bad_ and I didn't want you to think she was bad!" Dewey tried to explain.

"Who cares if what she did was bad or good! It's  _mom!_ _"_ Louie was crying. He was always the most sensitive of the three. Always the one asking about their mom, which only made it worse in Dewey's mind that he hadn't told them.

"Guys, I know how you feel, but I think Dewey's right-"

"Shut up, Webby! This is our family, and our problems, not yours!" Webby hadn't expected Dewey to be the one to turn on her, especially when she was defending him, but she supposed she couldn't blame him. She quietly left the room.

"We tell each other  _everything_ , Dewey." That had always been Huey's mantra for the three, and hearing it now only made it worse. So much worse.

"And... And this was about mom. We  _promised_ each other that we'd tell the others anything we found out about her. Remember?" Louie's words sting because yes, Dewey did remember, one night a few years ago, when they were all curious about their mom. When they had made a promise.

_"Uncle Donald, what happened to mom?" Huey had asked their uncle after school one day. "We have to do a project about our parents for school." Donald looked up from the many, many ads for jobs that were strewn in front of him, looking suddenly much older._

_"Your mom... Della was... She..." All of a sudden Donald couldn't form sentences, his eyes filling with tears. The triplets shared a worried glance. They had seen their Uncle Donald get mad, and upset, but they had_ never _seen him cry._

_"I-It's okay, Uncle Donald, we can do the project on you, or something," Louie quickly suggested. Donald nodded._

_"I'm sorry I'm like this. You kids go upstairs, we'll have dinner in an hour or two." The triplets filed upstairs._

_That night, none of them could sleep._

_"Guys?" Dewey said. "If we ever find out anything about mom, we'll tell each other, okay?"_

_"Promise," Said Huey._

_"Promise," Said Louie_.

"I remember the promise," Dewey said, but his voice was hoarse. He remembered the promise, heck, he had come up with it.

"Well, you aren't acting like it!" Huey exclaimed. "We were supposed to tell each other. We were supposed to tell each other _everything_." 

There was a long silence, where Dewey couldn't look his brothers in the eye without feeling ashamed and guilty. He finally just burst out sobbing.

"I'm sorry," He cried. "I'm sorry! I broke the promise!"

Huey and Louie looked at their brother, a complete wreck, and they carefully walked over.  They held out their hands. Dewey remembered this too, their handshake. It was really only used after fights, as a sign of forgiveness. 

Forgiveness. Maybe that was all that mattered.


	4. Kids

This, Donald decided, was the reason why he didn't ever want kids. Because he knew he would get worried about them and he'd never stop stressing.  _Where are they right now? With friends? Are they hurt? Do they need me? Are they alive?_

Knowing where they were didn't make it any better. The drive to the hospital was fast, frantic, and to the sound of angry beeping, some (ok, most) from the other drivers. Donald was a wreck, swerving because he couldn't see anything through his worried tears.

"I should have never let him take the kids! I knew it was a bad idea! But he didn't listen!" He ranted to himself as he sped down the highway at a definitely illegal speed. He counted down the minutes in his head until when he would get there, trying to think of the happy memories to keep himself from going insane.

Six minutes. That time that Donald was so overworked that he had forgotten his own birthday, and when he got home, the triplets were there with an inedible birthday cake and off-key singing. But it was the thought that counted, and he told himself that as he choked down the "cake."

Five minutes. One day, Donald had to pick the kids up from school early because they got in a fight. When he angrily asked them why they were fighting, they said that the other kid was bullying one of their friends. Donald ended up letting them stay up late that night instead of grounding them.

Four minutes. There was one time when Dewey had been running around the house and broke a picture frame, and they replaced it with the frame they had been saving for a Christmas gift. Donald told them they didn't have to do that. The triplets said they wanted to.

Three minutes. When the triplets moved in with Scrooge, Donald had been worried that they would be in more danger than before. Instead, they were even more safe than in the houseboat and the relief that Donald had felt when he found out was immense.

Two minutes. The triplets and Webby mistaking champagne for seltzer on New Year's and accidentally getting drunk. At the time Donald was terrified, but now it was one of those "it was bad at the time, but now it's hilarious" memories.

One minute. Come on, one last good memory. Just one.

Della. 

There was no right moment to think of. Just the name evoked a feeling of overwhelming joy and grief in Donald. He missed her so much. She had been there his whole life, basically never leaving his side, and then... then she was gone. Poof. Disappeared into thin air without a goodbye or an apology or even just a  _letter_ , because Della had never been the responsible one, she was the daring one, and now that whole piece of him was missing and he didn't know why she did it-

He was at the hospital.

Donald parked haphazardly and rushed inside. He ran to the front desk, which was thankfully empty.

"Who are you here for?" The receptionist asked calmly.

"Duck! Huey, Dewey, and Louie Duck, and Webby Vanderquack!" The words rushed out of his mouth like a tidal wave, and it took him a minute to realize that he was yelling.

But the receptionist simply said, "Room 435," and pointed him towards the elevator.

It was the longest elevator ride of his life, but when he finally reached floor 4 and flung open the door to 435, it all faded into relief.

The kids were fine. Well, fine was a stretch, but they weren't dead or mortally wounded or in a coma, and Donald considered that a success. However, he couldn't ignore the injuries they did have.

Huey had bandages tightly wrapped around his left hand. Dewey was on a pair of crutches, his right leg in a cast. Louie had a cast on his right leg. And Webby had bandages wrapped around her head.

Scrooge sat in the corner of the room, looking both relieved and ashamed. Everything Donald wanted to scream at him, every punch he wanted to throw, how much he wanted to grab the kids and leave disappeared. 

They were in the same boat. They just wanted to protect their kids. 

And it seemed like both of them had failed.

"Uncle Donald!" The triplets exclaimed when he opened the door, and Donald wrapped all three of them (and Webby, of course, his honorary niece) in a hug. 

He may not have wanted kids, but he wouldn't trade them for the world.


	5. Courtyard, Garden, Lake, Orchard

Of course Lena didn't  _mean_ to set the garden on fire, it just sort of... happened. And it wasn't all her fault (or so she told herself).

"Lena! Come on! I want to show you the garden!" Webby led Lena excitedly through the courtyard/garden/lake/orchard (it served many purposes, however unnecessary they may be) of McDuck Manor. They were meeting the triplets there to begin what they called the "outside area tour," because saying garden, courtyard, lake, orchard tour was too long, and none of them could come up with a good acronym (Louie was begging to call it "colg," because it sounded like a real word, but the other triplets refused).

"I'm coming," Lena said calmly, trailing a safe distance away from Webby in case Magica decided to try something else (she had twice now tried to kill Webby, and tried to kill each of the triplets at least once, and even tried to kill Donald once). "Large backyard you've got here."

"I know! Mr. McDuck had a lot of space to work with, and he actually talked about in volume seven of..." Lena stopped listening at this point. Don't get me wrong, she loved Webby, but her long and winding explanations got old  _fast_. Lena and the triplets constantly tried to distract her when she went off on a tangent (which was the cause of one of the attempted Webby murder plots, but that wasn't important right now).

"...and that's why the backyard is so big!" Lena heard Webby finish her rant, and realized they had arrived in the garden at last. Lena had to admit that it was pretty... underwhelming. The plants were shriveled up and dead (Beakley never had time for gardening, and Scrooge had no interest in the activity. It made everyone wonder why they had a garden in the first place) and the trees looked like their growth had been stunted.

The triplets were inspecting one of the smaller trees. Huey was marking it down in the JWC, Dewey was poking it with a stick, and Louie was trying (and failing) to get the hose to start.

"What do you think?" Webby asked. 

"It... needs some work, I think," Lena admitted.

"See? Thank you!" Huey exclaimed. He turned to his brothers. "I  _told_ you that they should work on the garden! Didn't I?" Dewey and Louie rolled their eyes, but still defeatedly nodded. Huey turned back around triumphantly.

"We can look around for a bit if you want, before we start the tour," Dewey suggested. Lena agreed to the idea, as did Huey, Louie, and Webby.

As the others gathered around the aforementioned tree, Lena heard a voice in her ear.

"Lena." Lena groaned. Magica had become more of an annoyance than a help. "What are you doing?"

"I told you," Lena whispered back. "I'm trying to gain their trust."

"You've got it by now! If you're too attached, I could always just..." Magica's shadowy form moved towards the tree. Lena rushed forward.

And then the entire tree went up in smoke. Huey jumped back in surprise, as did Webby. Dewey's stick had caught on fire as well, and he dropped it onto some dead carrots (at least, Lena thought they  _looked_ like carrots. She wasn't sure). Within seconds, almost the entire garden was either aflame, already burned, or slightly charred, and everyone was panicking.

"Hold on, I've got it!" Louie shouted as he finally got the hose to work. The fire was doused, but the damage was done. The entire garden was a large pile of ashes. Awkward silence filled the air.

"Okay," Webby said. "Anyone for an  _indoor_ tour?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys want, feel free to send in prompts! There is not a 100% chance I'll do them, and if I don't, it was either because I didn't have an idea for it and couldn't figure out how to write it, or because the suggestion was NSFW or offensive.


	6. Mark Beaks, in all his Annoying-ness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based on a prompt from @R0aringRapt0r!

Webby didn't know how Huey and Dewey had made an enemy in Duckburg so quickly, but they had. And here he was now.

"Oh, if it isn't the _interns._ " Mark Beaks- yes,  _the_ Mark Beaks- had said with scorn when they had come across him at the billionaire's club, much to Webby and Louie's confusion.

"Beaks," Dewey had replied with the same tone, confusing Louie and Webby even more. 

"I- you guys know each other? How?" Louie asked.

"Did we not tell you about the internship?" Louie and Webby shook their heads. "Oh. We got an internship at Waddle, but he was a fraud and also we had to save him from a saboteur- did we really not tell you this?" Huey asked.

"No! I'm so jealous! I've never had a real enemy before. You guys are so lucky!" Webby exclaimed. 

"No we're not! He crushed my dream!" Dewey sobbed.

"That's what enemies do," Louie shrugged. "Besides, this guy seems like a jerk."

"Hey! I'm standing right here!" Beaks announced angrily. He was supposed to be ignoring _them_ , not the other way around! Stupid hyperactive kids and their short attention spans.

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

"Hi, Mr. Beaks, can you tell me what it's like to have an enemy?" Webby asked, deciding that Huey and Dewey weren't likely to tell her.

"Not now, kid. I'm busy. Why are  _you_ here?" Beaks asked Huey and Dewey. "Last I checked, you weren't billionaires."

"We're with family," Huey explained, pointing to Scrooge, who was deep in an argument with Glomgold. Beaks looked at Huey and Dewey, then at Scrooge, then back at Huey and Dewey, then at Scrooge again, and finally back to Huey and Dewey.

"Yeaaaaah, I don't see it." The triplets collectively rolled their eyes. 

"Really? I think they have the same beak," Webby commented."And kind of the same eye color."

"Hm. You might actually be right," Beaks said, slightly impressed. "Anyways! You are  _not_ billionaires! Go to the kid check!"

"Never!" Dewey shouted. He jumped up onto a table, then to a chair, and then he was on top of a bookshelf. The other kids followed suit, though some had an easier time than others.

"Fine, whatever. I don't care." Beaks stormed off like a moody teenager. 

"You know, having an enemy seems a lot more boring now."


	7. Snowball Fights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry I was gone for so long! I was busy with school, and I had no time to write anything but now I have some more time so here ya go

Donald had honestly thought that letting the kids play outside was a good idea. The first snowfall of the season had just occurred, and the ground was covered in the fluffy white powder. Playing outside would be fun, right? 

He didn't expect an all-out snowball war. And he didn't expect for everybody (Scrooge and Beakley included) to participate.

So he and Huey were hiding behind a haphazardly constructed snow wall, waiting for Webby to turn around so they could strike. 

"Has she turned around yet?" Huey whispered again. Donald peered over the wall. Webby was turned around, talking to Beakley, who was hiding behind a much nicer and well-structured snow wall.

"Yes," Donald whispered.

"Okay, three... two... one!" Huey jumped up and threw the snowball with all his might, and Donald did the same. Webby ducked and spun around, releasing snowballs at Donald and Huey.

"Retreat! Reatreaaaaaat!" Huey screamed, running back to their "zone." Each team had their own zone- Webby and Beakley, Donald and Huey, Scrooge and Louie, and Launchpad and Dewey. The yard had been split by Scrooge dragging a stick through the snow, though the kids had advocated for using spikes. The adults refused.

Back on their side, Donald and Huey entered their HQ, aka an enclosed area made of- you guessed it- snow. It was filled with pre-made snowballs, ready for attack.

"Who are we going after next?" Donald asked, partly because Huey would probably just stay on their side if he could, and partly because he was getting excited about the game, too.

"Hm... Oh! I have an idea!" Huey said mischievously.

\---

Scrooge was an overachiever, and Louie was an underachiever. Which meant that they spent the first half of the game arguing over strategy and base layout, and nothing got done.

"Okay, but if we just focus on the attack-"

"Lad, we need defense!"

"But not if we have  _attack_ _!_ _"_

It went on for some time. 

"I'm surprised that we haven't been attacked already," Scrooge muttered. "Something's probably-" Louie was on the ground, having taken a snowball to the face.

"Ha! Take  _that_ , Louie!" Dewey exclaimed, high fiving Launchpad as they rushed back to their side.

"Ow! Uncle Scrooge, can we go get revenge? Pleaaaaaaaase?" Louie begged. Scrooge sighed. Louie was going to get back at Dewey no matter what, so he might as well just let him.

"Fine, fine, let's go," Scrooge said, grabbing a handful of snow and beginning to form it into a relatively round shape. Louie did the same, but instead, he continued adding snow to it. It got bigger, and bigger, and then part of it fell off, and then Louie reattached it.

"Lad, you'll kill your brother with a snowball that size!" Scrooge exclaimed.

"That's the point," Louie replied. 

"Louie, _no._ "

\---

If there was one thing that Webby and her grandmother could agree on, it was that strategy and preparedness were the most important things in the world. Which was why their base looked like something out of a war movie, complete with a watchtower, where Webby was looking out over the snow-covered battlefield.

"Okay, Donald and Huey are back at their base gathering snowballs. Oh! Dewey and Launchpad just attacked Scrooge and Louie. Louie's down!" Webby was giving a play-by-play of what she could see, and then she and Beakley would decide on the best course of action.

"Hmm... If Louie and Scrooge are distracted, we could go after them. Or perhaps we could go after Donald and Huey when they're least expecting it," Beakley suggested. Webby thought for a moment.

"Looks like Scrooge and Louie are on the move. Let's go after Donald and Huey! For glory!" Webby shouted, hopping down from her post and landing softly in the snow.

"Alright. Remember, stealth," Beakley instructed.

"I _always_ remember stealth."

"That's my girl."

\---

It shouldn't have been surprising that Dewey and Launchpad were winning. Yes, they were easily distracted, but when it came to competition? They refused to accept defeat.

"Okay, okay, so we got Louie and Scrooge. Who are we going for next? I vote Webby and Beakley," Dewey said in a rush from the adrenaline high.

"Yeah! Uh oh," Lauchpad said. Dewey turned. Louie and Scrooge were running at them, while Huey and Donald were running after them, and Webby and Beakley were running after them, and now everybody had met in the middle.

"New plan! Attack everyone in sight!" Dewey exclaimed, throwing a snowball into the mix. It soared past Webby and hit the ground, smashing into bits of snow.

"Oh, it is  _on!"_ Webby screamed, launching a snowball back in Dewey's direction. Instead, it hit Huey. 

"Hey!" Huey shouted. He threw a snowball at Webby, and she dodged. It hit Scrooge, who was standing behind her.

And suddenly, snowballs were flying everywhere and no one was safe. A mix of screams and laughter filled the air as the fight continued. Eventually, everybody ran out of snowballs. They sat, exhausted, on the snow covered ground. A seconds minutes passed in silence.

"So who won?" Huey asked. The question hung in the air.

"REMATCH!" Louie screamed.

"Maybe later, kids. It's getting dark," Donald said. The kids grumbled.

"How about some hot cocoa?" Beakley suggested. 

"Yeah! Grannie makes  _the best_ hot cocoa!" Webby exclaimed, standing. The triplets stood too, and they chatted excitedly as they entered the house.

"So," Scrooge said, turning to Donald. "When's the next snowstorm?"


	8. Midnights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> me???? projecting onto a relatable character???? never

Huey couldn't sleep. Not that this wasn't normal, but it still bothered him. His brothers slept soundly in the beds above his, why couldn't he? 

His thoughts where jumbling his head, as usual. Too loud. Too much. Too many voices for him to sleep. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and walked out of the room as soundlessly as possible. 

He slid the bathroom door closed and sat down against the cold tile of the walls and floor. It was almost soothing. He reviewed his thoughts, the bright fluorescent lights waking him up slightly.

Thought number one, the most pressing- Dewey might be keeping a secret from him and Louie. No, no, he thought to himself. He wouldn't do that. Look at it logically, Huey. Often he though somebody, anybody, had turned against him. This was another example.

Thought number two, an underlying emotion that needed to be dealt with- he was homesick. The houseboat had been his home for as long as he could remember. Not being inside of his old room, without the rocking of the boat to lull him to sleep, it felt unnatural. As unnatural as not having his brothers or his uncle.

Thought number three, the one he really didn't want to think about- his mom. He was thinking about her more. How could he not? The remaining fragments of her, however small they were, lingered in the nooks and crannies of the mansion. He didn't know her. He didn't need to. He thought he could  _feel_ her presence here, like a spirit watching over him protectively. 

When he was younger, Huey had found it comforting to imagine his mother as a part of his life. Waking him and Dewey and Louie up in the mornings, sending them to school, picking them up and asking them about their day.

Comforting them when something was wrong. Huey wanted that fantasy so bad, he swore he needed it. He needed his mom, he wanted his mom.

He wanted his uncle.

Huey stood, brushing the escaped tears off of his face and leaving the bathroom. He walked passed the door to his and his brothers' room, down the hall. He knocked once, twice, three times on Donald's door.

"Come in," Huey heard his uncle say quietly from inside. He turned the knob and gently pushed the door open. 

"Uncle Donald?" Huey walked to the bed, where his uncle was sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

"The thoughts again?" Donald asked, upset. Not that Huey was waking him up, but that Huey was hurting. Huey never told him anything about his thoughts, and Donald knew they must be bad if that was the case. Huey nodded. Donald motioned for him to sit down next to him on the bed.

"Everything's gonna be fine, Huey," Donald said, wrapping his arms around Huey. Huey sobbed into Donald's shoulder. "Everything's gonna be fine."


	9. Two Years Ago (Webby)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing four of these little pre-show snapshots focused on different characters. This is Webby, next is Huey, then Dewey, and finally Louie. Hope you like it! (by the way, I HC the kids as 11)

Webby had only tried to get out of the mansion once. When she was nine. 

Her granny had caved and let her into the library, where she was allowed to take out a few books as long as Beakley deemed them appropriate. One book that Webby chose was Grimm's fairy tales. Beakley had allowed it, and Webby read it all in one night.

The story that really caught her eye was Rapunzel's. She felt like the story could be her life. Not the prince's or the witch's, but Rapunzel's.

Trapped in a tower? Check. If the mansion counted.

Trapped by a witch? Check, but granny was nicer than that witch by a mile.

Saved by a prince? Not yet. Wait, why did she need to be saved? She could save herself! And she would. She would escape and see all of Duckburg, and then the world, and granny would  _have_ to let her go! She'd be independent.

So Webby gathered all of her blankets, tied them together, and waited until her granny fell asleep. She slipped out the window, gently lowering herself down into the garden.

She snuck around the bushes, under her granny's window. She was quiet as could be, trying not to wake up the only person in the mansion who would stop her from escaping.

Finally, she saw it. The gate to leave the mansion's grounds.

Creeping towards it, she slid her feet over the grassy ground, thinking it would be quieter. 

When she reached the gate's door, she pushed it open. Just as she believed she was in the clear, she heard a loud blaring. It echoed in her ears, cancelling out any other noise. She stumbled towards the gate, holding her hands over her ears. She reached out and pulled the door closed.

The alarm kept going. 

At this point, Scrooge and Beakley had realized the situation and Scrooge angrily sent Beakley out to deal with her "runaway child" while he reset the alarm. Beakley heard him muttering "blasted children" as he shuffled off. She went to get Webby.

"WEBBY VANDERQUACK!" Beakley shouted, as the alarm quieted itself. Webby looked up, her hands slowly leaving her ears, ashamed. She looked at her feet.

"Sorry, granny," She whispered. Beakley felt a bit guilty, but this was for the best. She couldn't have Webby ending up like her parents. No, no, she wouldn't lose any more family members before their time.

"Come along, Webby," Beakley said, grasping her granddaughter's hand. "Let's get you back to bed." Webby sniffled, brushing tears from her eyes. 

"Okay, granny. I'm sorry."


	10. Two Years Ago (Huey)

"Huebert Duck! Get down here  _right now!"_ Donald's voice rang through the houseboat angrily. Huey was nine. This was the first, and only, time that he could remember getting in trouble with his uncle.

"Yes, Uncle Donald?" Huey said, cringing as he walked down the stairs. He knew what was happening, of course he did. He just... really didn't want to get punished. Though he deserved it.

"I just got off the phone with your teacher. Care to tell me why you think you're in trouble?" Donald didn't often get upset with his nephews, but this time, he had a cause, and Huey knew it.

"Because I gave the other kids the answers to the homework?" Yes, that was the answer, plain as day. Huey had been, well, bullied into giving out those answers. Not that he'd ever tell his uncle. He would get angry at the principal, and then the principal would get mad at the bullies, and then the bullies would get mad at Huey, and sometimes they'd even get mad at his brothers.

And that made Huey mad at his uncle.

So the cycle repeated. But not if Huey had anything to do with it. He would not let the cycle of anger continue, he would just suck it up. Nine more years 'til graduation, right? 

Oh, it was going to be a long year.

"Huey, you're a good kid. Why would you help other kids cheat?" Donald asked, having calmed himself down a bit.

"They were having trouble, I just wanted to help." It sounded like a lie even to him. Uncle Donald would never buy it.

So why did he?

"Huey," Donald said, his face softening. "those kids need to study. They don't need your answers. Okay?" 

"Okay, Uncle Donald." Huey couldn't believe it. Uncle Donald really-? But... But he wasn't going to risk it. He climbed the stairs, away from the shame of his lies.

Donald sighed. He knew what was going on with Huey, but if he didn't want to tell him... how was supposed to help?

This whole parenting thing was harder than Della had always claimed it was.


	11. Two Years Ago (Dewey)

Dewey's blatant disregard for his health and safety and his dangerous hobbies had caused many, many problems. And this one definitely took the cake.

"Dewey! Get down from there!" Huey cried, waving his arms beneath the giant tree. Dewey stood on the highest branch possible, an umbrella perched over his shoulder. He was sure of this plan.

"Normally, I would tell you to do it, but this time I agree with Huey," Louie called. His hands were in his pockets like he didn't care, but his expression was a mix of fear and concern. 

"Don't worry, guys! I've got it," Dewey said confidently. He got into position, ready to jump when the wind sent a breeze his way.

"DEWEY! DON'T! STOP!" Huey and Louie were in panic mode, and Huey had begun to climb the tree in an attempt to get to Dewey and knock some sense into him. Louie was about to cry.

Huey was making no progress, being too scared of heights to get to the top of the tree, and that gave Dewey time to wait for the right opportunity. He wondered why his brothers were being so annoying. Everything would be fine! The umbrella would catch the wind and he would land on the ground, completely unharmed.

Right? Right.

The wind picked up. This was his chance! Dewey steadied himself, bent his knees, held the umbrella high above his head, and...

Jumped.

For a second, a very short second, Dewey could see  _everything_. Huey's terrified face as he clung to a lower branch. Louie, tears streaming down his face as he motioned for Dewey to stop. The entire city was in front of him.

And then the umbrella broke. Dewey plummeted to the ground, and he only had a second to do _something_. He curled around to protect his head, and then he hit the ground.

Huey and Louie and Huey and Louie were standing in front of him in seconds. They were fading in and out of his vision. He picked up snippets of conversation- well, more like terrified shouting, really.

"-get Uncle Donald!"

"Hospital? Call an ambulance-"

"Dewey!" 

Dewey felt a pain in his arms, and his legs, and his head, and when did he get into a hospital bed?

"Dewey, you are in so much trouble." Donald was sitting in the chair next to Dewey's bed. Dewey looked down in shame. He had a cast on his left arm and on his left leg. The throbbing in his head had subsided, thankfully.

"Sorry, Uncle Donald," Dewey said.

"I'm glad you're okay," Donald sighed. "But never do that again."


	12. Two Years Ago (Louie)

Louie acted out often. Nobody could figure it out, but each person in his life had a different theory. None of them were correct.

This particular time, it seemed out of place. But honestly? It was right where it was supposed to be.

It was the triplets's 10th birthday. Donald was working late (again), and so the triplets were home alone. Huey and Dewey were sitting on the couch, Huey was reading and Dewey was drawing. Louie was upstairs. 

Suddenly, Huey and Dewey heard a loud crash. 

"What was that?" Dewey exclaimed, jumping off the couch and running upstairs. Huey followed him, worried. They found Louie in their bedroom.

He was sitting in a small pile of books, which had clearly been shoved angrily off the bookshelf next to him. He was throwing the books at the wall, and they landed open on the ground, their spines near breaking.

"Louie! Stop!" Huey and Dewey ran into the room, grabbing the books out of Louie's hands.

"What are you doing?" Huey asked, surveying the damage. Aside from a few small dents in the wall and books with bent covers, everything was relatively unharmed. Louie seemed to have calmed down.

"I just don't get it!" He shouted. "Everybody else gets to have their parents there on their birthdays! Why can't we?" 

"Lou-" 

"Why didn't they want us?" Louie choked out. The room went silent. 

"They died." Dewey's voice shook.

"How do you know?" Louie asked. 

"Uncle Donald would have told us if they were alive," Huey whispered. "Or we would have met them."

"But Uncle Donald doesn't tell us anything! All we have is that stupid  _picture_ , we don't know _anything_  about her!" Louie sobbed, picking up and weakly throwing another book against the wall. 

The triplets heard the door open downstairs. They shared a terrified look.  _We need to clean this up before Uncle Donald gets suspicious_. But how were they supposed to do that?

"I'll distract him," Louie whispered, wiping tears from his eyes and standing. "Put the books back and cover up the dents."

"Boys! I'm home!" Donald yelled from downstairs.

"Uncle Donald!" Louie shouted, with more joy in his voice than he felt. "Did you bring us any presents?" Huey and Dewey watched Louie leave the room. Then they closed the door and began shoving the books back onto the shelves.

"As a matter of fact, I did. Where are your brothers?" Donald asked. 

"Upstairs. They're- brushing their teeth." It was the first thought to come into Louie's head, and he cursed himself.

"Oh, okay. Go get them, I want to give you guys your presents!" Donald said, reaching into the bag that was slung over his shoulder. Louie breathed a silent sigh of relief as he turned and walked slowly back upstairs. That should have been enough time.

And when he reached the bedroom, Huey and Dewey had finished.

"We can't tell Uncle Donald about this, okay?" Louie whispered as they walked downstairs.

"Okay."


End file.
